


Spoiler Alert

by SunnySinclair



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Harry Potter References, Non-American refusing to call Philosopher's Stone Sorcerer's Stone, Soulmarks can be huge spoilers, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 01:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9693419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnySinclair/pseuds/SunnySinclair
Summary: Based on this; so if in the soulmate au the very first words your soulmate ever says to you are tattooed somewhere on your body since the day you are born imagine having something like ‘man I cant believe dumbledore died’ tattooed on you. imagine being spoiled for a book series that doesnt even exist yet. imagine worrying about this dumbledore guy your whole childhood while not knowing who he is. imagine knowing dumbledore dies before jk rowling even thinks about it.





	

_I can’t believe Dumbledore died._

Those words had haunted Darcy since she had learned to read. Who was this Dumbledore? How did they die? And why the hell did it have to be the first thing her soulmate commented on. She was sure that meant their meeting was going to be a completely depressing affair.

For that she hated Dumbledore, whoever he was. Just a little bit.

And what kind of a name was Dumbledore anyway?  
When she was five her parents had helped her do a google on Dumbledore. Whoever they were was fated to die, but Darcy, in all her childish naivety, still insisted that she wanted to know and warn them, to do something with this glimpse in to the future her soulmark had given her. It was fruitless though – there simply were not any people named Dumbledore, at least none that Google could find.

When she was six Harry Potter came out. Darcy was too young to read it, so she continued on, unaware that Dumbledore’s identity was so readily available.  
It took another two years before she found out. At the ripe age of eight, her mother handed her a copy of Harry Potter & the Philosopher’s Stone. The woman was trying just a little too hard to hide a smile, acting a little too airy-fairy, saying how she thought Darcy might find it interesting. The little girl was suspicious, but being all of eight she just took the book and went to her room to read with no greater impression than her mum was weird.

That changed rapidly, when she shrieked loudly a few minutes later. Her mother wasn’t weird. She was evil.

Darcy, sat on her bed, stared at the oh-so-familiar name printed in the book, going through a very complex range of emotions for an eight year old. There was the initial joy at having found Dumbledore, quickly followed by relief they were just a story. That was mixed with frustration and anger though – she was only a few pages in to the book and she knew Dumbledore was going to be dead! Talk about spoilers.

She was tempted to set the book aside and just not bother, knowing what she did, but that decision lasted all of two minutes. She wanted to know what the deal was with the cat that read street signs and maps.

And she needed to know how Dumbledore died.

With all the petulance her young body could muster she flounced out to the kitchen and gave her mother a glare as she went, lower lip jutting out. Wordlessly she poured herself a glass of milk and stole several of the good chocolate chip cookies from the jar on the counter before returning to her room, picking up the book, and reading all afternoon.

Dumbledore, of course, didn’t die in that book though, and Darcy was gripped by the sudden realisation – there were more of these books, and she didn’t know when Dumbledore was going to die.

Damn soulmate.

Through all the years waiting between books Darcy had one saving grace – she knew she wasn’t destined to meet her soulmate yet. The words gave her a free pass up until that literary event happened. Where other people were wandering around in a constant tizz of _when when when_ , Darcy was content. Not yet. It made focusing on other factors in her life much easier.

She was fifteen when things changes. Like many others, Darcy lined up for the midnight release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Of course she wanted the book for the story – even having that giant spoiler hanging over her head, the books were still good – but she was filled with trepidation for that particular thing she knew to come. There was only meant to be seven books in the series, and this was number six.

But Half-Blood Prince didn’t disappoint.

She scurried home with the book and started reading, tearing through the pages in one sitting. Her heart jumped when she came close to the end. One quick Avada Kedavra and that was it.

“Snape, you bastard,” she muttered, but she was smiling.

Not yet had become any time now.

And really, she was expecting it to be any time – people everywhere were talking about the book and she was sure she was going to meet her soulmate in the very near future.

But it didn’t happen.

There were a few false starts, a lot of people expressing their disbelief at Dumbledore’s death, but none with those exact words. A month went by, then two, six, a year…

In 2007 the last book came out, and she still hadn’t met her soulmate.  
She got irritated with them all over again, much as she had when she was eight. They’d stamped her with that huge spoiler and then didn’t even have the decency to read the books as they came out!

At least she assumed they didn’t – there didn’t seem much sense in making some comment years after it happened if they’d actually read it in the beginning.

The movie came and went without any soulmate too, and then it was all done. Books, movies, they had all been released, and there Darcy was, still without her soulmate.

As the years ticked by she grew more and more frustrated, trying to come up with the worst possible thing to say to her soulmate when she met them, to pay them back for all they’d put her through with those ominous words stamped on her skin.

The day she thought of it she had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from cackling. It was perfect, absolutely perfect, and would pay her soulmate back for everything they’d put her through and then some.

***

“I’m just saying Jane, guy this rich, giant penis tower, you’d think he’d fork out to get his own movie theater on one of these floors. I mean come on, who doesn’t want their own movie theater? I want my own movie theater. And popcorn machines. Oh, and there’d totally have to be a slushy machine. No! A bunch of slushy machines! All different flavours. Put 7/11 to shame with my flavours.“

The statement was met with a frustrated sigh by the smaller of the two women as they walked in to the living area.

“Oh come on, like you wouldn’t say yes if someone offered you your own theater!”

Bucky, from his spot on the sofa, looked up from the book he was reading. He very hastily wiped away a tear – he was not about to be caught crying over some character in a book by a couple of dames.

“Darcy,” Jane groaned. “Could you just be quiet for five minutes, or at least until I’ve gotten coffee. How the hell are you so awake right now?”

“Um, that would be because it’s almost 11. Your sleep schedule is totally whacked.”

“You did not just use whacked as a verb.”

“I did Janey, I totally did.” Darcy said and grinned. The way she’d turned her head to shoot that look at her friend had put Bucky directly in her line of sight and her eyes widened a fraction when she saw him.

He raised an eyebrow at her before lifting his book back up, licking a finger before turning the page.

The corner of his mouth ticked up when she made a strangled noise. He wasn’t all that good interacting with anybody these days, but it was nice to know he still had a little something when it came to women. His self-congratulating was short lived though, since he found her to be staring at the book rather than at him. He was sort of glad of that though, given the contorted expression on her face.

Her mouth opened and closed and her eyes darted back up to him. Then she glared a little, and Bucky had the strangest feeling he knew exactly why.

But his first instinct was to keep quiet, so he did. The silent staring went on long enough Jane noticed and she gave another of those groans.

“Geez Darcy, leave him alone. I’m sorry about her,” she directed at Bucky. “Apparently nobody bothered to teach her manners.” Without letting Darcy get a word out in her defence Jane had grabbed her elbow and bodily pulled her through to the kitchen.

Several minutes later they both reappeared, steaming mugs of coffee in hand, and Jane was prodding a finger in Darcy’s back to keep her moving forward whilst flashing Bucky another apologising look.

They were almost to the door when he found his voice, rusty as it was.

“I can’t believe Dumbledore died.” He held the book up, thumb caught in the pages to mark his place, and watched as the girls back stiffened. Slowly she turned to look at him (and swatted Jane’s poking finger away as she did). Her face was very carefully blank and Bucky swallowed, suddenly nervous.

“Well at least you didn’t tell me Snape killed him. That would’ve been an even worse spoiler.”

They both stared some more, before, quite suddenly, Darcy was smiling brightly and then she was right in front of him and beaming down at him.

“Uh,” Bucky got out, staring wide eyed up at her. His soulmate. She was real. And she was here. And she was funny, and obviously a little vindictive.

“Seriously dude, it was stressful, knowing someone was gonna die and not even knowing who they are!”

“I can imagine,” Bucky said, a glimpse of a smile lighting up his own features. “Imagine knowing some guy named Snape was going to kill someone and not being able to do anything about it.”

Darcy didn’t look the least bit chastised. She actually grinned wider. “Tit for tat, s’only fair.”

“Can’t argue with that.” He dropped the book on to the sofa cushion next to him and held out his flesh and blood hand. “I’m James. Most people call me Bucky.”

“Duh,” Darcy rolled her eyes at him, even as she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Your face was kinda the one I drew love hearts around in my history book when I was in high school.”

A chortle escaped him and he squeezed her hand right back.

“Guess fate knew what she was doing then.”

“Yeah. Poor Dumbledore though. I mean, I was born years before the books even came out. What if our marks are the reason JK decided to kill him?”

“I’ve had my mark since before she was born,” Bucky said, giving Darcy’s arm a tug and causing her to topple in to his lap. “If it’s our fault he’s dead…” He paused, a hand slipping up her back and tangling in her hair. “Y'know, I really don’t care.”

“Bu-” Darcy started, even with the closeness of her soulmate she was fully prepared to debate fate vs freewill and the originality of ideas. Bucky wasn’t giving her a chance though, as his mouth slanted over hers.

And Darcy found she didn’t even mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a fan of that last line, but this is unbeta'd and I can't come up with anything better at this moment.  
> I know Darcy is American and therefore would have a book titled Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, but that irks me. The book is called Philosopher's Stone, and I can't bring myself to refer to it any other way. If you need to, believe her copy of the book came from the UK.


End file.
